Two Shots of Fire Whiskey and One Midnight Fire
by starry-nights88
Summary: All it took was some fire whiskey and a midnight fire for Harry to realize Malfoy wasn't all that bad.


**Two Shots of Fire Whiskey and One Midnight Fire**

**Starry's Corner:** First time writing Harry Potter. Wish me luck. First time I've ever had to research for a fan fiction too. Kinda flying by the seat of my pants here so judge lightly. Selenity…this is for dealing with me throughout the writing of _Another Side, Another Story_; without you in the picture I think things would've turned out a lot differently. Here's to another year of pure magic.

**Note:** This one-shot is set soon after Half Blood Prince, but before Harry decided to skip his last year at Hogwarts. Plot has been changed, obviously. Forgive me if I get any timing and/or names wrong. Correct me if I'm wrong and I'll change them.

* * *

It was late. Harry didn't need a watch to tell him that. The halls were quiet and empty in Grimmauld Place; a sure fire sign that it was late. All of the members of the Order had either left or gone to bed like some of the younger ones, namely himself and his two best friends; Ron and Hermione.

There was at least one other person he could add to that list of the younger generation of Order members. But, he never exactly considered Draco Malfoy as a friend. And, it wasn't likely he'd start anytime soon. He was still in the rudimentary stages of shock over the sudden appearance of the youngest Malfoy on his door step just a few short weeks ago.

He remembered it plainly. Like it had happened yesterday. That's how brightly the memory burned in his mind and how disturbing the experience had been.

It had been early in the morning on the day that would've been the true last day of the term at Hogwarts, but the students had already been excused from the last few weeks of school due to the Headmaster's sudden death. Harry was still in mourning. Still hurting over the death of the man who had been like a Father to him.

Then _he _appeared with a note from Hogwarts' new Headmistress, the note nearly begging him to allow Malfoy to stay. To keep the teen _safe._

The words still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But, Harry relented. Though, hesitantly. Malfoy was allowed to stay at number twelve Grimmauld Place with him, but not to join the Order. Though the platinum blond wished it. Perhaps to repent for the crimes he had committed against the entire group. Or, maybe, this was all another one of the Voldemort's schemes.

It wasn't until one night, weeks and weeks later that Harry's view on the Malfoy boy had begun to change. Once again, it was late. Harry had always had trouble sleeping. Nightmares and all. The sixteen year old was looking towards another sleepless night as he made his way into the parlor.

Only deviating from his path to break into his late Godfather's liquor cabinet to get an ancient bottle of fire whiskey. With the warm amber liquid in hand, the teen continued on.

He hadn't bothered to wake either of his friends, preferring to be alone to sort out his thoughts and make a little sense out of the mess his life was quickly becoming. He had a lot of decisions to make and not a lot of time to make them. So much was resting on his shoulders, it just seemed silly for a sixteen soon to be seventeen year old.

The black haired teen pushed open the parlor door, not expecting to see a roaring fire lit in the fire place. For a moment, it confused him. But, then his eyes fell on a head of platinum hair. He almost turned and left. He wouldn't mind company...but, not in the form of Malfoy. Even though the two were on a somewhat civil basis. As in, neither no longer had to worry about the other cursing them when they weren't looking.

But, before the teen could leave, Malfoy stopped him in his tracks, "You don't have to go, Potter." He said. His voice was so light as he stood from his arm chair, "I'll leave."

Harry would've let him too. But, as the lithe boy was passing him, that annoying inner voice spoke up. Encouraging the teen to let the other stay. That company would be much appreciated. Even if it _was _a Malfoy.

"No, no. It's alright." Harry replied quickly, nudging the door closed before the other had a chance to leave, "There's enough fire whiskey to go around." He said, holding up the bottle. Maybe, if he drank enough, he'd had enough reason for this in the morning. Because, he knew his friends would have something to say about his midnight conversation.

Malfoy looked over him for a long moment, perhaps trying to see the joke or trick in this. Finding none, he sighed heavily, "Alright." He agreed, reaching for the bottle, "Though, I wouldn't want to disturb the Chosen One's thought process. It'd almost be too much to bare." He added, gently tugging the bottle out of Harry's hand.

The said teen rolled his green eyes, "You know, I resent that." He answered smoothly as he brushed past the blond, falling into one of the arm chairs.

"Oh?" Malfoy asked, opening the bottle as he made his way back to his own chair. He sat, taking a long drink from the bottle. His face scrunching with the taste of the bitter, burning alcohol before he passed the bottle to Harry.

The black haired teen accepted it, "What makes you think I'd want all this nonsense?" He asked, taking his own swig out of the bottle. His face cringing as well, "I never asked for any of it." He passed the bottle back to the other, turning to look at him, "I don't _want _to be the Chosen One."

Malfoy held the bottle for a moment before taking a drink, "Why wouldn't you want to be?" He asked softly after taking that drink, "The whole wizarding world knows your name. Who wouldn't want that?"

Harry sighed heavily, not sure if someone who already had that kind of life would understand, "I never wanted to be the Chosen One, I just want to be Harry." He said as he held his hand out for the bottle, "Do you know how disturbing it was for everyone to know me for something that I had done that I don't even remember?"

Malfoy shook his head, passing the bottle on, "No...no, I suppose I don't." He answered, his face heating slightly when their hands brushed together as he handed the bottle to Harry.

Harry Potter could remember that night so perfectly. Sitting up into the early morning hours, just when the sun started to peek over the horizon, talking to the young Malfoy heir. His flushed face. His nervous laughter. And, that odd little feeling that made its self known that night. The feeling that never really went away, but only seemed to grow.


End file.
